On the Subject of Dailies, Highlights, and Alternate Takes

So anyway, I suppose my title is a tad misleading (Excuse me miss, how much is a tad? Well, in space terms it's about half a million miles.). On the whole, I'm not writing this one to talk about film production (maybe a little, but generally not overall). The title's more figurative really. Life's just been a little mundane as of late. Aside from a nasty bronchial virus the Monkey caught, nothing's really been happening - it's all been eerily stagnant, like I'm just waiting for the floor to drop out from under me. I've decided it's time for a new career path - ok, that's not true, I still want to be a composer, so I guess you could say it's time for a new "job" path. It floors me how many people (particularly in mid to upper management) can't seem to differentiate between job and career - but I suppose that's a peeve for another posting.

I've basically had about all the banking I care to. I've given up on the idea of moving myself up within the company (something I was doing purely out of financial necessity rather than personal fulfillment). The bureaucratic mentality is the one constant in the universe. And frankly I've had enough of it here. I've seen enough of the management at this bank to know that I want no part of it - and since that's the only place left to go here...fuck 'em. My job isn't going anywhere (literally and figuratively), I don't have a need to find another one, I just want another one. At this point, my job is about as intellectually stimulating as a fucking pop-up book. And the highlight of any given day is ogling a hotty that works on my floor (you know, the standard stuff - undressing her with my mind; wondering just how big those things are under that top; is she going to wear that awesomely short miniskirt again today; is my piercing stare about to burn a hole in that amazing ass; is she an innie or an outie - not the navel; landing strip, furball, or Brazilian bald eagle - the usual stuff, right?!). That shouldn't be the only thing I have to look forward to every evening - that shouldn't be the sole motivation for anyone in any position for that matter. So, I'm looking around. I started by registering with the government's website...I could live with a cushy government job for a while - especially if it got me off the vampire hours.

Hell, at this point any job that gets me off the fucking vampire hours has potential. Fun little factoid (and I apologize for the lack of references): I read an article on CNN.com last year that a university study somewhere found a link between graveyard hours and increased risks of certain cancers. YEA!!! Well, that alone is incentive enough to get the fuck out of Dodge. I don't want to end up with ass cancer just because I held a job in the middle of the fucking night for several years. The catch at this point is finding something that I'm even remotely qualified for and still pays me about what I'm earning now. And since I'm a musician/banker, the field is narrow to say the least. The reason I'm so interested in the government route is that they're a little more forgiving if you don't have any qualifications - for them, a degree in anything (hell it could be 15th-Century English basket weaving) is a plus.

I did have an idea for a piece that might actually have motivated me enough to get my ass down into my basement and use my shit for once. First I just have to put everything back together. I had to take everything apart a while back to get it out of the way for a plumber. And the Arctic tundra that is my basement is enough to dissuade anyone from wanting to go down and do anything productive...but, since I've got a nifty idea, I suppose I'll have to brave it - that's why the Lord saw fit to give us coats, gloves, scarves, ear muffs, hats, thermal undies and electric socks...right?! My basement where my "studio" resides is a concrete tomb. It was never finished (which I'm partially thankful for because had it been I'd have less room for my shit), and though it's ventilated to the furnace, it only stays just warm enough to keep ice from forming on everything. So...yeah, winter - not a good time of year to try and be productive as a composer in my house! With a little convincing from Brad, I've decided on how to arrange the meter - so now I just need to start entering notes (we'll see what happens - I'm nothing if not a world class procrastinator).

I've also noticed an influx of good, slightly older comedies on the telly lately. I suppose good is a relative term as comedy is such a subjective genre of film. More than any other, comedy seems to divide people on what is and isn't good or funny. One person's comedic gem is another's pointless trash. I'm that way with Woody Allen comedies - well, actually all his films, but particularly his comedies. I just don't get them! Really, I don't! I have yet to find anything of interest in a single film of his. I glean nothing from them...and I certainly have never understood why they're considered so amazing - or why he's even had a career for that matter. Anyway, I caught a few minutes of Loaded Weapon 1 the other day. Despite some awful direction and a few lackluster performances (I'm looking at you Kathy Ireland - stick with the 3 B's*), it really is a pretty funny movie - the gags hit a lot more often than they miss. If you've never seen it, it's basically a spoof of all the Lethal Weapon movies - made at a time to cash in on the spoof craze that was hitting hard for a couple of years, and starring Emilio Estevez because...well...because they figured Charlie Sheen had a hit with Hot Shots! so why not see if his brother can bring in some green doing the same spiel (it even has a gag referencing this fact). It also has the virtue of containing two of my top-5 personal favorite exchanges ever - first, Tim Curry, the hench-villain has just caught the hero, Emilio Estevez, off guard and put him in a human shield choke-hold when the following takes place:

Em: Who are you?!
Tim: (in a hysterically awful German accent) I...am you vurst nightmare.

Em: No...waking up without my penis is my worst nightmare!

Second, in a spoof of the toilet bomb scene in Lethal Weapon 2:

Emilio: Luger...where are you?

Sam (the Man) Jackson: Up here.

Emilio: (kicks open the bathroom door) What is it? What's wrong?!

Sam: (matter of factly) Nothin'...takin' a shit.

Emilio: Oh...sorry...(backs out slowly, closing the door)

Those crack me up as much today as they did 15 years ago. Then there's Soapdish - a great little flick from 1991. If you've never seen it, I can't recommend it enough. The cast alone is a really big check in the plus category: Kevin Kline, Robert Downey Jr., Sally Field, Elizabeth Shue, Whoopi Goldberg, Teri Hatcher (when she was still hot and kinda slutty), and Cathy Moriarty (whom if you don't recognize, then you've probably never seen Raging Bull - in which case...SHAME ON YOU!!!). There's even a couple of great bit parts by Carrie Fisher, Gerry Marshall, and Ben (Captain Monotone) Stein. The film basically follows the in's and out's of a highly-popular, highly-illogical, highly-stupid daytime soap. It's been getting a lot of play on the various HBO's the last few weeks...seems like every time I go by it I can't help but stop and watch for a few minutes. I brought up alternate takes in my title because a scene in this movie (completely inadvertently) demonstrates how radically different one take can be to the next. You know, for a guy who's never seen a set during production, I'm oddly fascinated by it and even more oddly aware of what goes on. Anyway, in a scene about midway through the film, Sally Field's character is watching herself from earlier in the day having a complete conniption fit on Entertainment Tonight (is that show even still on?). At any rate, the fit she's having on the television is completely different from the one we (the audience) saw about five minutes earlier in the film. If one were to look up the film on IMDB, you'd see this event listed as a continuity error on the 'goofs' link. Anyway, I just wrote one insanely long friggin' paragraph about something that is only of interest to all of maybe two people in the entire fucking world (me and my other personality) ...but there you go. Incidentally, should one find themselves interested, apparently in the earliest promo material - specifically the main one-sheet - Terri Hatcher's nipples were popping out of her dress. I don't know about your thoughts on the woman now, but Terri Hatcher c.1991 was definitely worth a look!

So here we are. An overly long (and relatively pointless) update into what's going on in the Pikey's world at the moment. If you're thinking you're being treated (read: spoiled by) to two days in a row of updates, keep in mind that I started this post a week ago...so don't blow your wad just yet - I can still frustratingly space updates out with the best of 'em.

*the 3 B's refers to a song called "Be Pretty, Be Naked...and Be Quiet". It's a comedy song I heard on a radio morning show once.